The Lord and the Lady
by Njoldara
Summary: If your heart whispered their name with every beat, and if your skin sang beneath their touch, how far would you go to defend someone? Sequel to "Slayer and the Betrayer"
1. My Pain Means Nothing If You Are Hurt

"On your left!", shouted a deep, familiar voice to the Slayer. Pyravia immediately turned and brutally slashed a charging fel lord as a warglaive of Azzinoth came hurtling into its skull. "Thank you, my lord.", she grunted, ripping the glaive out of the demon and tossing it back to none other than Illidan Stormrage. "Stick closer to me... you're worrying me unnecessarily.", the Betrayer whispered to her as leaped to her position, the fires of his eyes burning intensely behind his blindfold. He turned and flared his wings protectively, shielding the Sin'dorei demon hunter as he ripped apart a cackling succubus, wincing when her barbed whip blasted his right wing.

Pyravia sighed when she felt him hiss in pain, shaking her head and deftly blocking a fel bat's talons from overhead. "We're going to be overrun if the others don't arrive soon!", she growled, reeling back and burying her blades into another fel lord's side. Illidan did not respond to the Slayer, busying himself with carving a felguard to pieces. The demons kept coming from all sides, pouring out of every stronghold they had on the Broken Shore. The Slayer and the Betrayer had been tasked with retaking a portion of the island, where Khadgar planned to station the armies of Azeroth. However, he had overlooked the sheer amount of demons present any place on the isle. Illidan, seeing what Khadgar did not, had instructed the rest of the Illidari to join midway through their offensive.

" **Focus** , Pyravia.", Illidan snarled as he buried both glaives into the heads of a pair of succubi, their whips tearing new cuts into his torso. The Slayer jumped up and crashed to the ground, sending a wave of felfire into the oncoming Legion soldiers and causing a verdant rune to appear at her feet. The rune flickered for a few moments, before exploding and knocking back a group of imps. She screeched angrily as one was thrown back on to her, turning into a tiny tornado of teeth and claws, biting and scratching her for all it was worth. Pyravia grabbed the petulant imp by its neck and sent it sailing towards a shivarra, hitting the demoness square in the face. She heard Illidan snicker cruelly as the shivarra screamed in rage, bright white fangs glowing against her deep, sapphire skin.

Guttural shouts erupted from the crowds of demons as the rest of the Illidari finally made their appearance, charging up from the shore and slaughtering anything that stood between them and their leaders. Kayn Sunfury and Kor'vas Bloodthorn burst from behind a group of clustered felguards, shredding them and spattering felblood all over the dark rocks of the Broken Shore. Allari the Souleater followed closely behind, a battalion of naga bringing up the rear with Asha Ravensong and Belath Dawnblade. The Illidari swept around the battlefield, naga sirens firing off numerous ice spells and hissing commands to their male counterparts in Nazja tongue. Asha and Belath cornered a small group of Man'ari Eredar sorcerers, their glaives rending their flesh and sending their souls screaming back to the Nether.

Felblood painted the ground around the demon hunters, pools of it forming wherever they went. Pyravia and Illidan stuck close to each other, driving their blades into any felbats that dove towards them, ripping their leathery hides open and causing rains of felblood to shower down. The waves of Legion pawns never seemed to end. Where one was killed, two more seemed to take its place. Kor'vas bellowed a furious taunt in Darnassian as a fel lord knocked her on to her back with the flat side of its axe, Kayn quickly throwing himself on to its back and piercing its neck with both his glaives. The massive demon fell the ground with a loud thud, felblood leaking from its thick neck as Kayn helped the Kal'dorei to her feet.

At last, after what seemed like hours of fighting, the onslaught of demons finally seemed to end. The few that were left raised their eyes to the skies, before nodding and quickly retreating. Belath Dawnblade heaved one of his glaives at a retreating felguard, the blade jamming itself in the center of the demon's back and knocking it on to its chest. He smirked, before striding over to the collapsed demon and twisting his weapon, relishing in its tortured groans. With a final snort of smugness, he drove the blade completely in, the light quickly leaving the felguard's eyes.

The armies of Azeroth began flooding into the bit of territory the Illidari had claimed, building tall structures and forming class enclaves. Those who would stay at Legionfall began arranging their quarters, either putting up tents or building small huts where there was space to.

Illidan and Pyravia ventured back down the shore, finding a meager but extremely hidden and private space that they claimed as their quarters. The Betrayer had voiced his distaste for the Fel Hammer, not enjoying its lack of privacy nor the general calmness.

"Why do you insist on doing this to yourself?", Pyravia sighed as she re-entered their tent with a bowl full of faintly cobalt liquid. Illidan sat crosslegged in the middle of the space, eyes closed as he reveled in the sound of his lover's voice. "I lost you once, I will not lose you again.", he said calmly but possessively, wincing slightly as he felt her begin to clean the wounds that peppered his body. "Your faith in my abilities is absolutely astounding.", she mocked in a deadpan voice, soaking a cloth in the enchanted water and dragging it across Illidan's bicep. He smirked, eyes still closed, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her close against him. Pyravia laughed gently, kissing his shoulder and resuming her task.

"Truly though.. look what you're doing to yourself.", the Slayer lectured, reaching over and placing her hand on Illidan's cheek, rubbing his cheekbone and willing him to open his eyes. Felfire slowly appeared beneath blindfold as he leaned into her touch, directed to where she held the rag. It was stained a bright crimson, and she hadn't even moved on to the rest of his body yet. He gazed at the cloth for a few moments, before turning and snorting haughtily. "I've experienced much worse.", Illidan huffed, moving Pyravia into his lap and cradling her. "And I would not be a proper partner if I didn't defend you, no matter the cost, now would I?", he continued, kissing the crown of her head and caressing the soft skin of her almost-constantly hidden face.

"Illidan, I-", she began, before he placed a thumb to her lips. "Do not speak. I would do anything to ensure your safety..", he mumbled, worming his index finger beneath her blindfold and taking it off over her head. She held the cloth over his gently vibrating heart, blinded eyes looking up at his sharp face adoringly.

"I will defend you by any means necessary.. I cannot, I **will not** , lose you again.", Illidan finally sighed, before placing a warm kiss to her lips.


	2. Moonlight, Sunrise

The pair of elves lay tranquilly inside their tent, the moon glinting off the slowly rolling waves through the parted entranced flaps, the sounds of the ocean filling their ears. Despite the Broken Shore's infestation with demons, certain parts of it still held a calmness and lack of corruption. Illidan's arm was draped around Pyravia, limp and heavy with sleep. His chest rose and fell at a leisurely pace, her arm rising with it as she clutched his torso. His breathing was languid and quiet, unburdened by what went through his mind every moment of every day.

The Slayer gazed up at his slumbering face, his typical bitter expression gone and left with one of serenity. The only times that harsh and resentful expression seemed to fade was when the two were alone together, and when he dozed off. She tried to memorize its sharp lines, the tall curve of his brow, the high bridge of his nose, the points of his jaw and cheekbones. It was easier to do so when he was asleep and his blindfold was removed, she always lived for seeing his face uncovered. She imagined him smiling.. he did it so rarely, but it was always breathtaking when he did.

Flickering felfire made its appearance as his eyes fluttered open, still halfway closed but staring down at her. "I feel your eyes upon me..", Illidan mumbled, tightening his arm around her and shutting his eyes once more. "Go to sleep, Dalah'surfal."

"Make me, then.", Pyravia whispered back, kissing his pectoral. The felfire reappeared, burning a bit more intensely and a smirk playing at his lips. Her fingers traced the tattoos that covered his chest and shoulders, glowing a bit dimmer than her own. "I could, but then you'd be of no use to the Legionfall armies or Khadgar come morning... and what would your excuse be?", the Betrayer taunted, losing himself in her gentle touches.

His eyes flashed open as she suddenly straddled his hips, eyes boring into him from above and thin lips curled into a rebellious smile. "I'm stronger than I used to be.", she challenged, roughly thrusting her hips against his as she held her lips inches away from his. "So be it then.", he growled, flipping her on to her back and kneeling between her legs, wings flared as he hungrily kissed her. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling a firmness against her sex. He stopped and smirked when her head fell back with a gasp as he harshly pushed himself against her. "I've missed you.", Illidan muttered lovingly, kissing and biting her neck. Her ram's horns poked into his hair, but he didn't particularly care.

He loved the rough intimacy of such encounters with her.

"Ah, Slayer, right on time! I was beginning to think you had overslept.", Khadgar exclaimed , standing outside the Legionfall mage tower and admiring the rising sun before it would be overtaken by fel and sulfur haze. "It's reassuring to see you as well, Illidan."

"Shall we get down to business?", the archmage continued, peering at the couple in front of him. "It'd be exceedingly pleasant if you got on with it already, mage.", Illidan curtly remarked with a scowl, folding his arms across his chest. Legionfall was awakening, the hustle and bustle beginning and battalions of various classes marching out to combat with the Burning Legion, and Illidan didn't want to stick around for when things got crowded. Especially not when he knew Maiev Shadowsong and her wardens would soon make their appearance.

"Well, yes.", Khadgar coughed awkwardly, "Slayer, I'd like you to head into the Black City and rescue our captured scouts. They're likely being tortured, and as such are not likely to last much longer."

Pyravia nodded and saluted, bowing slightly before the archmage. She began to march towards the exit of the Legionfall outpost, when she noticed Illidan following her. She stopped and turned towards him, gazing up through her Shattered Abyss mask at him as he placed a hand on her shoulder, now noticing that the two weren't within viewing distance of a single soul. The Slayer closed her eyes and sighed as Illidan's hand lovingly traveled up and clasped her neck and jaw, his thumb hitting the smooth metal of her mask and his knuckles grazing the warblades mounted upon her back. "Come back alive.", the Betrayer ordered, reverting to his imperious incarnation and finally waving her off.

The Slayer crept along the side of one of the many massive spires that the Black City was filled with, hidden away from the patrolling demons by the shadows. Her blinded eyes scanned each of the buildings, her spectral vision searching for any sign of the captured scouts. At last, she finally a found single spark, quavering and threatening to give out at any moment.

She raced into the building, quickly executing the inquisitor within that stood guard. "By the Dark Lady, I'm saved!", rasped the Forsaken rogue that lay on the ground, his rotten body spattered with congealed onyx blood from the many wounds that covered him. The outer edges of his wounds blistered with fel, still smoking and burning away at his flesh. Pyravia hurriedly hushed him, slamming a her covered palm to his mouth. "Tell me where the others are.", she whispered, her fel-twisted voice reverberating out of her mask. "They were taken to the Soul Engine, Slayer, they're going to be used as fuel.", he lowly uttered, worriedly glancing towards the spire doorway in fear that his rescuer would soon be discovered.

"Damnit..", she cursed, balling her hands into fists. "Take this and immediately report to Archmage Khadgar when you arrive.", the Slayer commanded, forcing an arcane teleportation orb into the Undead's sinewy hands. "Thank you, Dark Lady watch over you.", he said, and with a twist of the sphere, he was gone in a burst of cobalt light.

"In Sargeras' name!", shouted felguard as he charged into the spire, Pyravia's position given away by the arcane flash. She narrowly missed being hit by the massive axe, rolling out of the way as the gargantuan weapon came crashing to the ground. Her short, charcoal hair bristled as she forced herself on to the demon, throwing it to its back. With a loud warcry, she drove both of her Aldrachi Warblades into the felguard's chest, the enchanted cyan flames crackling on contact with the unclean flesh. Felblood poured from the wound as the abomination flailed, attempting to free itself. Every floundering motion made more vile blood spew from the gaping holes the warblades had ripped open. Finally roaring angrily with defeat, the felguard expired, flopping over limply.

She stood, recovering from the demon's assault and tearing her blades free from the Legion pawn's corpse. Giving a final glare of disdain and hatred to the cadaver, Pyravia resumed her mission and melded back into the gloom of the Black City. Her eyes searched eagerly for the sparks of life that would denote the Soul Engine's position.


	3. Felblood

"Look, there!", the brunette human rogue whispered to her Night Elf companion, weakly pointing to where the Slayer crouched in the shadows. The caged scouts began to shuffle about as best they could, all of them immensely interested in what their leader was pointing at. "We're saved!", a gnome excitedly cheered, before realizing that she had drawn the attention of the nearby fel lord. "Shut up!", the orc male caged with her hissed, clapping his massive hand over her mouth.

" **Quiet, maggots!** ", roared the fel lord, slamming the ground with the bottom of his forge-like axe. Sparks flew from beneath it. Sulfur poured from his nostrils when he snorted, his eyes scouring the room for what had caused the commotion. As soon as his back was turned, Pyravia sprinted out from the blackness, leaping on to the demon commander's back and raking her blades up his shoulder blades, flipping over his head and landing in front of him. The fel lord snarled angrily, blood seeping from the long, gaping wounds on his muscled back. "Soldiers, to me!", he bellowed, raising his axe into the air, before swinging it down towards the Slayer.

Nether portals immediately opened on all sides, releasing all manner of demons. More demons raced from all over the Black City, crowding and encircling the Soul Engine. "Destroy her! Sargeras will not be defied!", a shivarra priestess howled, charging into battle and becoming a flurry of blades, a battalion of wrathguards following closely behind. Pyravia leaped up and crashed to the ground, sending waves of felfire all around her and forming a bright green rune beneath her. Rolling deftly away, the rune exploded, tossing the fel lord towards her, and the shivarra and wrathguards back into the swarms of other demons. "Your soul will make _excellent_ fuel.", growled the fel lord, as he furiously slashed with his axe, landing a successful hit on Pyravia's torso.

The cut was deep, fel blistered and burned around it, felblood slopped on to the ground. Falling to her knees and clutching at her stomach, the Slayer anxiously looked around the Soul Engine for an escape. The demon's blood that coursed through her veins soon coated her gauntlets and plated leggings, forming a verdant puddle beneath her. With a loud grunt of exertion and pain, she threw herself backwards into the group of caged , and let loose all of the arcane teleportation orbs. A faintly orchid and cyan dome formed around them, and with a thunderous crash, pulled together and teleported them to Legionfall.

"Somebody! The Slayer has been hit!", the male orc hollered, dashing over to Pyravia's crumpled and bleeding form in the center of Legionfall. All attention was snapped to the group that had suddenly appeared, priests darting to the injured rogues as quickly as they could. The Betrayer's eyes widened and all sound seemed to fade as his gaze searched the increasingly large crowd for the Slayer. His eyes fell upon her pale and ravaged body, diving to her and shoving the orc out of his way. He gathered her in his arms, holding up her head with his forearm and roughly tearing off her mask and blindfold. The mask hit the ground with a loud clatter, the smooth metal scraped by the hard rocky ground.

Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, her face white and shadowy. Illidan began to shake her head back and forth, silently willing her to open her eyes, give him any sign that she was still alive. Pyravia's eyes flashed open, her mouth suddenly wide open in a gut-wrenching and agonized scream. She writhed in the Betrayer's grasp, her blood painting his torso and legs. Her tortured cries caught the attention of seveal Draenei priestesses, who followed Illidan to his tent.

The former Lord of Outland gently laid the Slayer down in the tent, trying not to cause her more pain than was necessary. Sweat was beading up on her forehead, her eyes wrenched shut as she screeched in torment. "Keep your distance.", one of the three priestesses ordered with a heavy accent, shooing Illidan back towards the entrance of his abode. "How deep is it?", she then asked a younger, vaguely cerulean and white haired priestess. "It's down into the muscle, nearly into her organs..", the second woman replied, ignoring Pyravia's screams as she gently stretched open the wound and examined it. The third Draenei held down the Slayer's arms roughly, attempting to keep her from convulsing. The gash traveled across her entire stomach, the sides tinged green with fel blisters. "By the Light...", the first priestess gasped, putting a hand to her mouth as she looked down at Pyravia's bloody torso.

Illidan was numb, his sight fixed to his lover , he couldn't move any of his limbs. He could only watch as the Draenei maidens cast spell after spell in an effort to seal the gaping wound. They could only stem the tide of blood that gushed from it, their hymnal chants would close the cut briefly, only for the fel to overpower it and break it back open. When they came to the conclusion that spells wouldn't work, the white haired one produced an glistening spool of thread and a needle.

The thread was obviously enchanted with holy magic, it was iridescent and flickered from white to gold. The moment the needle plunged into Pyravia's skin, she howled in agony, and passed out. "Hold her head.", ordered the head priestess to the third woman as she oversaw the stitching. The enchanted cord produced glowing, golden veins around the fel taint, combating with it. The head priestess seemed relieved that the thread wasn't breaking, and let loose a long sigh as the job was finished. Illidan was broken out of his trance when he realized the sheer amount of blood on the ground of their tent.

"She should be relatively stable now.. just keep a close eye on her, we'll report what happened to Khadgar.", the white haired Draenei maiden assured Illidan, his gaze still transfixed on Pyravia. The trio exited the tent after placing a bowl of water and a rag next to the injured Blood Elf, leaving the two alone together. Illidan quietly stepped near her, sitting at her side and peeling off her blood-coated armor. With every piece he removed, his anger grew.

 _I should've gone with her._

He tenderly removed her plated boots, placing them near the pile of armor pieces.

 _This wouldn't have happened if I had accompanied her._

Illidan began shucking her out of her gauntlets, lingering on her delicate and frail hands more than was likely necessary.

 _I've failed you.._

He gently lifted her waist, careful not to disturb her stitches as he removed her heavy, fel-infused belt.

 _The fiend who spilled your blood will know pain unlike any other, this I swear._

The Betrayer rested her head against his shoulder as he removed the Aldrachi Warblades from her back and the pauldrons from her shoulders, piling them with the rest of her armaments.

 _I came so close to losing you **again**.. how could I have been so careless?_

He finally stretched his legs and leaned his back against the hard rock wall at the back of the tent, gathering Pyravia in his arms once more and cradled her, brushing away the hair stuck to her face with a talon. His hand shook as he placed it on her cold cheek, gazing down into her shadowy eye sockets. Reaching over, he soaked the rag in the bowl of water and began cleaning the blood from her. He dragged it gently across her stomach and legs, working her hands in it. He didn't care about the blood that covered him, nor the liquid that pooled on the floor of their tent.

 _I will not be so thoughtless again.. I did not think, and it nearly cost you your life._

The Betrayer held her chilly body against him, trying to warm her, resting his chin on the crown of her head. "Forgive me...", he whispered into her hair, his breath shuddering with rage as his grip on her tightened.


	4. Sanguinary Intents

_This blackness... How strangely familiar... Why can't I move?_

Pyravia's body began to shudder as it instinctively began to cough, trying to remove the dried blood from her throat. Her eyes were just barely open, her spectral vision failing her from her long withdrawal from mana. Consuming the nathrezim heart so many years ago had greatly increased the length of time she could go without absorbing mana, though the effects of withdrawal did hit her particularly hard when they finally came. She could faintly feel Illidan's arm around her and his legs beneath her, his free hand on her face, swiping away the flecks of filth that she coughed up.

"You're finally awake...", he whispered, relief heavy in his voice as he pressed his forehead against hers. His thumb gently opened her mouth, leaving her briefly to open a small vial of swirling, ethereal azure liquid. Illidan propped her head up with his forearm as he slowly poured the mana essence down her throat, a thin smile working its way across his face as he felt some of her strength return to her. Her mana cravings were eventually sated, but her injury still rendered her extremely weak and just barely able to move. The holy thread that bound it together, despite its enchantment, did not give her strength. It only served to make sure the fel did not rip open her wound again.

"Don't you have duties to be attending to?", Pyravia feebly mumbled, messily intertwining her fingers with Illidan's as he removed his hand from her face, his talons leaving delicate scratches on her ivory skin. He did not answer, only continued to gaze down at her, becoming entrenched in his own thoughts. "You have blood all over you..."

"It's yours.", he said simply, venom behind the words directed at the fel lord that had nearly killed her. "Can you recall all that happened?"

She nodded, squeezing the Betrayer's fingers. "There was a fel lord, guarding the prisoners... the Legion anticipated our rescue, he immediately called for reinforcements as soon as I began my assault. I was distracted by their hordes and he saw an opportunity...", the Slayer rasped, her lover's grip on her tightening. She sharply inhaled, her hand flying to her stomach as her stitches were disturbed. Illidan exhaled with a shudder, his grip loosening as his barely-caged anger became more and more evident. "It was no one's fault but my own, my lord, I should've brought Sunfury and Bloodthorn with me..", she apologized, burying her face in Illidan's side, her ram's horns gently scraping his ashy lavender flesh. "No.", he growled, shaking his head.

She didn't respond, only flimsily wrapped her arms around his torso. "I should've gone with you.. I was thoughtless.. I vowed to protect you and I **failed**...", he continued, his breath becoming more labored as he wound his arms tightly around the injured Blood Elf. Pyravia could feel his heartbeat pounding, could almost hear his thoughts screaming. She heaved herself up, putting her arms around Illidan's neck to support herself, his arms around her back and waist.

" _This is not your fault..._ ", she whispered into his ear, resting her jaw on his shoulder. He scoffed, his brow furrowed as he looked away from her. "How could it not be?", the Betrayer spat, "Had I gone with you, I could've defended you.. I could've kept those vile creatures from ever touching you."

"Do not blame yourself, Illidan.", Pyravia suddenly said harshly, her gaze hardening as she placed a hand on Illidan's jaw, urging him to look at her. The look in his eye was heartbreaking, despair and anger and self-loathing bled through it. "How can I not? My word is my bond, and I broke it.. You suffered needlessly because of **my** failure.", he lamented, winding his fingers into her short, onyx hair. "I **will not** fail again.", he muttered, pressing a gentle but mournful kiss to her forehead.

Illidan watched Pyravia in her sleep, the way she curled up against him and how peaceful she always looked. He could not sleep himself, his mind was too awake, thoughts furiously battling with each other. He wanted revenge, he wanted the Legion to know pain, by Elune he wanted them to know what _drastic_ and grave error they had made.

Thunder cracked outside, lightning illuminated the ocean as the torrential downpour rained to the ground and against the crashing waves. The wind squalled, the rain of the thunderstorm whipping against the rocks and flaps of the tent. The Slayer squirmed fitfully but did not wake when Illidan pulled himself away from her, standing and grabbing his warglaives before disappearing off into the storm.

"Illidari!", he bellowed, waking the few sleeping demon hunters in Legionfall. The majority of them couldn't seem to rest either, fiddling with doodads and itching for some kind – _any kind –_ of action. Their attention was snapped to their master, their feet swung beneath them as they stood and saluted. "Arm yourselves. The Legion will not be allowed the illusion of victory this night.", the Betrayer ordered, raising a glaive of Azzinoth high into the air. No longer caring who heard them, the Illidari cheered and roared their warcries, producing numerous weapons and mimicking their lord.

Kor'vas Bloodthorn and Kayn Sunfury led the warband, Asha Ravensong and Belath Dawnblade in the center, Jace Darkweaver and Allari the Souleater bringing up the rear. The former Lord of Outland was nowhere in sight, he had taken flight and perched himself atop one of the many spires of the Black City. As he had anticipated, patrols of demons marched throughout the dreadful wasteland, briefly illuminated by occasional lightning and the glow of felpools. The rain poured down on to him, the high Kal'dorei tail of midnight hair that cascaded down his back sticking to his soaked skin and heavy.

He dove into a group of wrathguard, sending a wave of felfire around him on impact. He shouted a wordless cry of anger and hatred, of a newfound and seemingly endless bloodthirst. He became a whirling tornado of rage and blades, his arcane tattoos burning with a fierce radiance, his hair circling around him like a mana wyrm.

Illidan thrust his glaive into one of the wrathguard's torso, lifting the demon up and throwing it against of its comrades behind him. "Legion, awaken!", called the wrathguard leader before being flogged with one of the Betrayer's wings, knocked on to its back as the hordes of demons began to form. Shivarra priestesses cackled maniacally as they charged towards the massive Kal'dorei, packs of felstalkers launching themselves into the fray. With each demon he felled, his frenzy intensified, he relished in the sprays of felblood that began to cover him.

The Illdari warband arrived to see their master in the center of an army of demons, corpses and dismembered limbs surrounding him. "For the Illidari!", Kayn Sunfury howled, thunder cracking loudly as he eagerly threw himself into the battle. Rain mixed with felblood, creating an unholy aurora that painted the Black City. Nether portals began to open as the Illidari began their assault, more Legionaries gushed from the black ovals and joined the battle. Allari the Souleater and Asha Ravensong stuck close to each other, back to back and cutting through swarms of felguards and Man'ari eredar. Belath Dawnblade followed behind Kor'vas Bloodhtorn and Jace Darkweaver, picking up their slack and eventually breaking away, metamorphosing into a horrendous, spiked monster.

Illidan's glaives of Azzinoth twirled around the battlefield, swirling in a circle and slicing anything near them to pieces. The former Lord of Outland raged, his talons rending the hide of any demon that came near, their entrails and blood spilling out on to the dusky ground. He growled fiercely as a felstalker threw itself on to his back, grabbing the vile creature by its tendril-like mane and whipping it over his head, slamming it into the ground. Lightning struck a nearby shivarra, shocking her brutally and traveling throughout her metal headdress, her body shaking violently as she turned to ash.

The storm was unrelenting, drenching both Illidari and Legionaries alike, the lightning illuminating the strike of swords, spears, and axes against glaives. Belath went berserk, tackling gargantuan felguards and throwing them into each other. Demon bones audibly splintered and broke as the Illidari fiend rampaged, even Kor'vas and Jace stoppped and gaped at the sheer magnitude of his attacks. Allari and Asha worked in tandem, letting loose explosions of fel and destructive, chaotic eyebeams.

 _I will_ _ **not**_ _fail again._

Illidan devolved into a maelstrom of talons and blood, flying from demon to demon, showers of felblood following him and erupting beneath his claws.

 _I will have my vengeance._

He briefly took flight and dove into a fel lord, knocking it to the ground before plunging his talons into its throat, ripping them across and sending a sea of felblood flying to the ground.

 _This is **only** the **beginning**._


	5. Thixuru

The Slayer awoke abruptly, a particularly loud clap of thunder invading her ears and seeming to rattle the very ground. Her uncovered eyes flashed open, Illidan's unmistakable presence vanished without a trace. Her hands eagerly searched for him, but found nothing, until her eyes fell upon her Aldrachi Warblades. The glaives of Azzinoth that were typically propped up beside them were gone, the flaps of their tent violently whipping in the gale winds outside. Pyravia immediately tried to leap to her feet, but fell back to her knees, her legs unable to hold her weight. " _Illidan_!", she shrieked as loudly as her lungs could bear, crawling on her front into the muddy sand outside.

The cold rain pelted her brutally, smashing against her skin like hail. Her bangs smacked her face, her long brows being bent to the side in the gusts. Nothing answered her call, no response came except for more blasts of salty sea air. She tugged herself along in the gritty mud, grunting in pain and exertion with every pull, dirt being ground into her stitches. " _Illidan!_ ", the Slayer cried out again, her nails piercing the sand and yanking her forward. She was lost in the cold, wet darkness, not a single soul was near enough to hear her shouts. Her face fell down into the muck, her neck unable to hold the weight of her skull any longer. She rolled her head to the side, the rain pummeling her cheek and forehead, one of her ram's horns digging into the sludge. Her tall, elven ears fell limp, one draping itself over her soaking wet, black hair. Her tattoos, glowing a bright, luminous green, were the only source of light, brightening the rain that fell on to her visible arm.

The Betrayer called his glaives back to him, grasping them harshly as they flew back into his hands. Belath continued to barrel through the legions of demons, much like a living siege engine. Asha and Allari spun in a circle, back to back, aiming searing eyebeams through groups of shivarra and wyrmtongue. Kayn had joined Kor'vas and Jace, the trio forming a triangle and becoming deadly dancers, blades flying elegantly and drawing felblood with every strike. Illidan spread his wings and stomped the ground, creating blooms of felfire beneath demonic feet, before exploding. Wrathguard and Mo'arg were thrown haphazardly, one of the Mo'arg landing on a group of shivarra and imps, squashing them into bloody smears.

The downpour drowned the battlefield, until at last, a fel lord much larger than the others emerged from the Soul Engine. Illidan's eyes narrowed,his vision cutting through the rain and his gaze falling upon the demon commander, familiar blood coating his forge-like axe, sparks of fel lifting off of it. The lord snorted, readying his axe as sulfur and smoke roiled from his nostrils, a venomous smirk growing on his face as he realized why the Betrayer was leading such a brutal onslaught. He knelt down for a moment, before leaping towards the Kal'dorei, his axe aimed downwards.

The axe plunged into the ground, breaking the earth around it and sending forth a massive shockwave. Illidan turned a backflip at the last moment, beating his wings and narrowly dodging the fel lord's aggressive attack. "I hope she's _still_ bleeding.", the commander taunted, heaving his weapon out of the rocky soil. An inquisitor began to drift towards Illidan, readying a spell, when the commander slammed the flat side of his weapon against it, sending the inquisitor flying back into the crowd of lesser Legionaries. "Leave him! He is **mine**!", the fel lord roared, spittle flying from his yellowed teeth as he bellowed at the rest of the demons. Thunder crashed as the Betrayer yelled in rage, charging at the commander and landing strike after strike.

Clang after clang rang out across the Black City as Illidan's glaives bounced off the commander's axe hilt, sparks flying as lightning lit up the battlefield. The lesser demons backed away, leaving the Illidari panting and breathless, wore out from the battle, soaking wet from the rain. Belath slowly reverted to his elven form, his energy spent, becoming evident as he crumpled to the ground in a heap. Kayn raced to him and caught the blond before his head hit the ground, the other Illidaris' eyes fixed to their frenzied master. The Legionaries had formed a circle around the many elves, as well as Illidan and the fel commander, taunting and cheering in both Eredun and Common.

"Spill his blood, Commander Muraxahr!"  
"Rend the mongrel's flesh!"

"Punish him, he has defied the Deceiver!"

 _Muraxahr... Kil'Jaeden placed such a vicious and bloodthirsty demon at the Soul Engine, **knowing** he would be near invincible in comparison to any rescuer.._

"Illidari, fall back!", Illidan ordered, pointing to one of the roads leading out of the Black City after realizing the condition his demon hunters were in. All of them were covered in cuts and bruises, dripping felblood and rain water, some even shivering from the cold. Belath had gone unconscious, held up only by Kayn's arms. The circle of demons opened for the Illidari, the Legionaries challenging and laughing as they watched the elves drag themselves away.

Turning back towards Muraxahr, Illidan backed away slightly and tossed both his glaives on to the ground. "I invoke the rite of Thixuru, it is only you and I, Muraxahr.", the Kal'dorei growled, readying his talons.

"Only a demon may invoke Thixuru, half-breed.", the commander growled, handing his axe to two nearby shivarra. "But if you wish to meet death so eagerly, I will _gladly_ accept your challenge."

The Legionaries widened the circle, forming an arena for Muraxahr and Illidan. They began a rhythmic stomping, grunting with each stomp, some pumping their fists in the air and ululating. Shivarra began a chant, " _Katra. Zil. Shukil._ ", each word the priestesses droned matching with the collective pound of hooves and feet. Muraxahr rolled his small head, his neck audibly cracking as he balled his enormous hands into fists. The ritualistic chants and thumps intensified as the commander charged at Illidan, roaring animalistically and slamming like a freight train into the Kal'dorei.

The Betrayer grunted loudly from the sheer force of the demon crashing into him, his arms flying around Muraxahr's leathery skin and his talons ripping their way down the slate-colored flesh. Felblood sprayed into the crowd as thunder and lightning cracked, but did not deter the chants. Muraxahr shouted in pain, reeling back and driving his fist into Illidan's torso. The Kal'dorei hissed, raising his knee and striking the fel lord in his armored stomach, knocking the breath out of him and throwing him backwards.

 **The Illidari watched from the road above, gazing down at their master before continuing back to Legionfall. "What is the master doing?", Kor'vas worried aloud, wringing her hands together with her brow furrowed. "Lord Illidan has challenged Muraxahr to Thixuru, an Eredun duel where two fight to death without weapons or magic. Extremely similar to the orcish Mak'gora... no one leaves until one of the combatants is dead.", Jace explained dejectedly, standing at Kor'vas' side and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Come, we must follow our orders.", Kayn commanded, beckoning to the two straggling Night Elves.**

Illidan threw himself at Muraxahr, flaring his wings and landing punch after punch on the fel lord's face. The Legion commander growled furiously, belting the Kal'dorei and uppercutting his jaw. Illidan violently shook his head, ramming the lord with his shoulder and knocking him to the ground. "You will **forever** regret the day you set foot here!", the Night Elf snarled, beating the fel lord's face in. His knuckles were red with his own blood and green with Muraxahr's.

Muraxahr heaved Illidan off of him, spitting out a tooth as he stood. "The Legion has come to collect you, ' _Betrayer'_ , as well as your pathetic excuse of a Slayer.", the lord berated, smashing his elbow into Illidan's neck and kneeing him in the ribs. " _Katra. Zil. Shukil._ " echoed throughout the Black City, the stomps of the demons creating the rhythm of Illidan and Muraxahr's Thixuru. The ground became littered with spatters of crimson liquid and felblood as the battle raged on and on, even a few more of Muraxahr's teeth were knocked into the soil. Illidan's knuckles were skinned and bloody, his pants tattered, his chest and face covered in deep, black bruises. Both the Betrayer and the commander were covered in mud and dirt.

" _ **Give it up already!**_ Can't you see you are beaten?", Muraxahr shouted, raising his bruised arms as the shivarran hymn grew louder and louder. Illidan turned and spat out a torrent of deep, sanguine blood, before shooting a stone hard glare at the commander. He beat his wings.. once.. twice.. three times, and hovered slightly, before diving down at Muraxahr. The two were once again knocked to the ground, Illidan in a frenzy and landing strike after strike. His blood covered Muraxahr's face, staining the demonic skin. With a deep inhale, he drove his talons deep into the commander's neck, raking them across and sending felblood flying in every direction.

Muraxahr wailed and howled, thrashing until Illidan's talons reached the center of his neck. The demon was dead, but Illidan didn't stop. He tore, and tore, and tore, until he ripped Muraxahr's head from his neck. He stood, holding the head by the lance at the top of the commander's helmet, eyefires blazing as the demons quieted and their mouths fell open. Felblood and rain dripped from the head, and with a grunt, Illidan whipped the severed head at the two shivarra that clutched the commander's axe.

The circle opened as the Betrayer retrieved his glaives, and finally spat on the corpse of Muraxahr, and marched out of the Black City, bloody, muddy, and bruised.


	6. Reckless And Defensive

The morning sun was rising, shining upon the Broken Shore. At last, the rains seemed to be relenting, the darkened clouds fading and making way for the radiance of dawn. The Illidari had returned to Legionfall and were reporting to a rather sleepy Khadgar, when Kor'vas Bloodthorn turned and saw the master's frame slowly lumbering to the mage tower.

He was beaten, bloody, and bruised, his clothing tattered and eyes cast to the ground. The Illidari turned to their lord and bowed deeply, kneeling as he passed by them without a word. Kayn Sunfury was nowhere in sight, having returned to the shore, near the Slayer's quarters.

Kayn knelt beside the Slayer's limp form, crumpled a few yards away from her tent. She was frozen to the touch and covered in muck, still soaking wet from the rains. Her breathing was shallow and slow, almost completely nonexistent. His eyes frantically searched for another soul around, but found no one. Inhaling sharply, he lifted Pyravia over his shoulder, her arms falling limply behind his back, her head lolling loosely. He heard footsteps behind him, and felt a presence he had grown to know all too well.

"Give her to me, Sunfury.", Illidan growled, the sour expression on his face loosening a bit as Pyravia was passed to him, becoming cradled in his arms. "Return to your post.", he ordered, marching off to his abode.

He laid the Slayer down gently on the soft rug, still stained with countless puddles of her blood. Retrieving the glaives of Azzinoth from his back, he sighed, leaning them next to Pyravia's Aldrachi Warblades, as had quickly become custom in the Broken Shore. With a small incantation and a twist of his fingers, he lit the elven lantern hanging at the side of the tent, shutting the flaps and allowing the minor flame to illuminate the space. "What have you done to yourself?", he mumbled, returning to the Slayer, soaking a cloth in the nearby bowl of water and cleaning the mud from her body.

As he dragged the cloth across her face, her eyes fluttered open, the warmth of him being near reviving her a bit. She did not speak, only stared at the ceiling as the Kal'dorei dabbed the rag across her stitches, careful not to disturb them more than what was necessary. His eyes drifted up to her face as he cleaned her thighs, the fires of them burning dimly through his black blindfold. Setting her thigh down, he reached up with his free hand and caressed her cheek, sweeping his thumb over her cheekbone. Her gaze slowly met his, the felfire creeping up to her brow at snail's pace.

"You've been near death twice in a span of about 24 hours... Would you mind telling me what in the name of _Elune_ you were thinking?", Illidan spat, his soft and loving look hardening into a scrutinizing glare. The glare melted as she looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes. "You were gone... and you simply expected me to do _nothing_?", she hissed, her breath shuddering angrily as one of the tears rolled down the side of her face.

"You're grievously injured, common sense dictates that you would've stayed put.", he growled, turning back to her legs as he scrubbed more mud off. "Common sense also dictates that you wouldn't have run off in the middle of the night during a lightning storm, but that didn't deter you, now did it?", Pyravia snapped, limply folding her arms over her chest and scowling.

The Betrayer stopped his cleansing, his stare wandering back to her. "Are you even aware of what it is that I did?"

"Obviously not, given that I've spent the last 6 hours on my face, in mud."

"That was your own fault, but I digress ; The Illidari and I led an assault on the Black City."

Her eyes fell upon Illidan's body, only now realizing how battered and filthy he was. Her expression became one of worry and anxiousness as she forced herself to sit up, her hands racing to examine the countless marks that covered him. His eyes were downcast as her brows knit together, her frown intensifying the more she looked him over.

"Why?"

"For you."

" **Why** , Illidan? Why would you do something so reckless?!"

Pyravia's hands gripped the sides of his face, lightly shaking him as she tried to comprehend what he had done. He sighed deeply, his fingers winding around her forearms.

"You were harmed.. Retaliation was necessary."

She did not respond, only allowed him to put his arms around her and drag her into his lap, resting his forehead against her. Her fingers traveled up through his thick, onyx hair, untying his blindfold and letting it flutter to the ground. Crimson blood began to leak from one of his fel-iron orbs, dripping down his sharp cheekbone and across Pyravia's delicate hand.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the look in Illidan's eye begged her not to.

"This is only the beginning, Dalah'surfal... Vengeance **will** be claimed."


	7. Petals of Elune

"Slayer, you must not push yourself so harshly!"

Kor'vas raced to Pyravia as she fell to her knees in exhaustion, fingers gingerly prodding the sensitive stitches that spanned the Slayer's entire abdomen. Her Aldrachi Warblades gently slapped on to the gritty sand below, fresh felblood trickling off and soaking into the earth. Her eyes burned through the blindfold as she peered up at the concerned Kal'dorei, scowling and shaking Kor'vas' hands off of her. "Bring out another.", Pyravia ordered, motioning towards the bloodied corpse of a felguard nearby.  
"You must take this in stride, pushing yourself this way will only delay your recovery.", Kor'vas insisted, trying to deter the Sin'dorei.  
" **Leave her** , Bloodthorn. Return to your post.", Illidan Stormrage commanded, entering the makeshift arena and waving her off. "Yes, my lord..", Kor'vas sighed, saluting and looking worriedly at the Slayer, before turning and making her way back up the hill to Deliverance Point.

"What are you doing to yourself now?", he questioned, approaching Pyravia and lifting her into his arms. She was much lighter in her replacement armaments : dark leather that exposed much of her skin and allowed for easier movement, pauldrons enchanted with fel magic that hovered a few centimeters above her flesh. "What does it look like?", Pyravia snapped, her eyes burning fiercely through the bandage across her face. "You must be patient, Dalah'surfal, you cannot expect all of your strength to return to you in a single week.", he chastised, brushing a stray hair out of her face. "You're _certainly_ one to scold me about patience.", the smaller elf snorted, weakly rolling her face into Illidan's shoulder.  
"Somehow, no matter how drained you happen to be, you always find the strength to be snide..", Illidan groaned, a small smile playing at his lips as he carried Pyravia and her weapons back to their tent. As he had so many times before in the past week, he sat with her in his lap, holding her steady as she eagerly drained mana from whatever bauble he happened to procure that day. The wound Muraxahr had left upon her still drained her strength, arcane energy included, the healing process arduous and lengthy even by Demon Hunter standards. "Better?", he asked thoughtfully, sighing as Pyravia lay her head against his chest, her gaze settling upon the Shattered Abyss mask that sat next to her Warblades. Scratches dotted the bronze metal, the unmistakable green of fel twisting and winding its way out of the mouthpiece. Illidan noticed her staring, breaking the connection by prodding her chin up with his knuckle. "Be patient.", he whispered, holding her close as exhaustion took over her body.

"Do you have an estimate on when the Slayer will be battle-ready once more?", Khadgar quietly asked Illidan, the two standing near a torch and looking out to the seemingly endless ocean. Moonlight glinted on the waves, a reminder that purity and beauty still remained in the most damned of places. "A few more weeks, unless the priestesses would be willing to examine her and attempt at sealing the wound permanently.", Lord Stormrage answered solemnly, lost in the tranquil motions of the sea. "I will speak with the High Priest, perhaps he may be able to spare a few of his followers.", the Archmage assured, nodding towards the Kal'dorei and wandering off towards the class enclaves. Deliverance Point had settled in for the evening, the silence of night washing over the warcamp.  
Illidan sat on the cliff, his legs dangling over the beach, lost in thought as his sight remained transfixed upon the roiling ocean. "It's a reminder of more peaceful times, is it not?", a familiar figure spoke as he took a seat next to the former Lord of Outland. "Peaceful.. When has it ever been truly peaceful here, Malfurion?", Illidan grunted in response, not bothering to look towards the Archdruid at his side. "Long enough ago that I struggle to remember it.", Malfurion sighed, looking up at the White Lady and the Blue Child. The pair sat in silence for a few moments, before Illidan finally broke down and spoke.  
"Why are you here?", he sighed testily, his eyes traveling to meet his sibling's. "We heard about what happened to your Slayer.. I came to give you this.", the Archdruid explained quietly, digging a glass vial with a softly-glowing lotus inside out of a pouch on his waist. "A moon lotus?", Illidan asked, bewildered. "A blessing. Despite the disagreements the Dreamwavers have with the Illidari, they did work to help purify Cenarius and retrieve the Tears of Elune, putting us in their debt. This will repay it.", Malfurion told, bringing himself back to his feet as he slid the bottle over to his kin. "Ande'thoras-ethil, brother.", the Archdruid spoke again, leaving the younger Stormrage alone with his thoughts.


	8. Elsington

"I'm sorry, Archmage, but I'm the only one the High Priest can afford to spare. He and the others are stationed in front of the very Tomb itself, watching over those who hold back the Legion's forces.", Lillian Elsington mournfully explained to Khadgar, moonlight shining gently on the navy blue of her Absolution regalia. Khadgar stood and watched , downtrodden, as the Undead priestess gently placed her hand on top of a nearby orc's forehead, quietly reciting an incantation and soothing the fel-infected wounds that covered his torso. Wisps of deep teal hair fell from her hood, as were small glimpses of the black leather straps that covered her blinded eyes.  
"What would you require of us?", Lillian asked, turning away from the orc and back towards the Archmage. "You are aware of what happened to the Illidari Slayer, correct?", he asked, fidgeting with one of his gloves. "Of course.. it was all the Draenei clergy could talk about..", the Forsaken answered solemnly. "Might there be anything you can do to speed the healing process? We need her back out on the battlefield as soon as she's able.", Khadgar implored, sapphire eyes bright in the dimness of the infirmary tent. "I cannot promise anything, Archmage, but I will do what I can.", Lillian promised, "Lead me to her."

Illidan stood outside of the tent he shared with Pyravia, gazing down at the vial clutched in his hand. The moon lotus within glowed softly, its petals a radiant white and speckled with azure twinkles. He turned his head when he heard a pair of footsteps nearing him, seeing Khadgar coming forth with a Forsaken priestess clutching his arm. As his eyes fell upon the priestess, she let go of Khadgar, bowing before Illidan quickly, but respectfully. "Is she all that could be spared?", the Demon Hunter asked, squinting behind his blindfold at the frail-looking healer. "Sadly, yes.", Khadgar answered, staring at Lillian. "I'll do what I can, my lord, but I can make no promises on whether she will be battle-ready.", Lillian assured, turning her face up towards the Kal'dorei.  
"This may help.", Illidan spoke curtly, extending his palm with the vial in it towards the healer. "Is.. Is that what I think it is?", Khadgar gaped, eyes widening at the luminous flower. Lillian's mouth fell open as she took the vial into her hands, a glow appearing in her sight. "Lillian, do you know what that is?", the Archmage breathed, eyes fixated on the vial. "I do.. I can sense the auras and energy signatures of plants and magic... This is a moon lotus, is it not?", the priestess gushed, a smile working its way across her soft face. "I would never have imagined that one might have bloomed, given the Nightmare's presence in Val'Sharah... Moon lotuses are unbelievably rare, even when the environment is uncorrupted."  
"Illidan, where did you manage to obtain such a thing?", Khadgar asked, watching closely as Lillian gingerly removed the flower from the vial. "It is of no concern.", Illidan responded, entering the tent and kneeling beside Pyravia's slumbering form. "I need you to hold her arms down, she cannot start thrashing during this or it'll make the wound even more grievous than it already is.", Lillian whispered, carefully adjusting Pyravia's midsection. The Sin'dorei groaned sleepily as Illidan shifted towards her head, bringing her arms up to him and pinning them to the ground. Khadgar backed away towards the corner of the shelter, analyzing every motion the priestess made.  
"This will be over quickly.. I promise.", the Betrayer murmured to the Slayer, pressing a small kiss to her forehead. "Hold tight.", Lillian ordered as she quickly ripped the stitching out of Pyravia's wound with her free hand. Pyravia jerked harshly and screeched as the enchanted thread was torn from her flesh, the slash across her stomach reopened and oozing. Lillian placed the moon lotus on top of the wound, before clasping both hands together and uttering fevered prayers. The lotus glowed furiously, shining like a beacon as it dissolved into a torrent of star-like twinkles, weaving its way around and in the gaping injury. As the cosmic wind traveled throughout the wound, Pyravia's blood ceased its oozing, her jerks calmed, and the tissue began to visibly knit itself back together. The fibers shone with the golden light of Lillian's magic, the lotus' cobalt light stitching them together.  
 **At last, it was over. All that remained of Muraxahr's wrath was the pink scar that spanned across Pyravia's abdomen. However, the lust for blood and vengeance still gnawed endlessly at Illidan's thoughts, threatening to consume him. It was only a matter of time before the floodgates broke.**


	9. Iruxos

Her eyes fluttered open, the vibrant felfire beginning to creep up to her brow in its usual fashion. The streams of energy and outlines of auras lit up in her spectral sight, the near-blinding silhouette and shape of Illidan Stormrage next to her. His gaze was cast down at her, the flames of his eyes burning radiantly behind his blindfold. "How do you feel?", he asked as she sat up, handing her her blindfold. Pyravia rolled her shoulders and her neck, her joints popping loudly as she shook away the stiffness. "Like fighting..", she sighed excitedly, extending her legs, the muscles in her body flexing as she moved her limbs, the pink scar that spanned her entire abdomen stretching with her porcelain skin. The Betrayer smirked, grabbing her hand and yanking her to her feet to stand with him. "Always prepared for a battle..", he murmured lovingly, strapping her Shattered Abyss mask to her head, his talons tracing her sharp, angular jaw.  
Illidan's eyes were already beginning to burn fiercely in anticipation of the coming bloodshed, his subconscious screaming in bloodlust and need for vengeance. If Pyravia could tell or not, he did not know, though he hoped for the latter. She had been so horrified when he had led the warband against Muraxahr, in awe of his lack of care for his own safety. It would not end well if she knew how deep his hatred and vengeful fury ran, unlocked by Muraxahr's attack. Rage burned throughout him like a wildfire, stoked every time he stole a glance at the horrid scar left upon his lover and by the knowledge that he had failed in protecting her.  
The two were shocked out of their reverie when they heard the shrieks of felbats and shouts of Legionfall defenders. "The war awaits us, Dalah'surfal.", Illidan growled eagerly, handing her the Aldrachi Warblades and grabbing his Warglaives of Azzinoth. Pyravia raced out of the tent behind him, eyes widening behind the mask as she saw the legions of demons attempting to encircle Deliverance Point above them. Infernals came crashing down from the Legion shuttles high overhead, felbats pouring in from all directions. "Get on my back.", the Betrayer ordered, immediately taking flight as soon as she was firmly in place.  
He dove into the center of Deliverance Point, causing an explosion of blue flame and throwing several wrathguard away from Khadgar and the Prophet Velen. "Just in time!", Khadgar exclaimed, firing off several arcane bolts towards a group of imps on the edge of the Point. "Slayer! It is good to see you back in action.", he continued, smiling quickly before turning his attention back to the battle. The pair readied their weapons, preparing to charge down to the class enclaves, where the demons were most concentrated. Illidan quickly leaned down to Pyravia, whispering into her tall, elven ear.  
" _Do not stray far. Keep next to me._ ", the former Lord of Outland quietly ordered, before charging down to the enclaves, the Sin'dorei close behind him. "Lord Illidan!", Kayn Sunfury shouted, bashing a felguard in the face with his glaive and knocking it down the cliff. The rest of the Illidari shouted wordless cries, invigorated at the presence of the Slayer and the Betrayer.  
Illidan tossed one of his glaives towards a towering shivarra, embedding the blade within her neck and throwing her the ground. With a frenzied howl of buried resentment , he leaped on to her body, raking the glaive acoss her throat and relishing in the spray of felblood. Pyravia slashed at the felbats that dared to dive towards her and her master, burying her weapons into one's torso as Illidan kicked the shivarra's corpse down the cliff. Grunting with extertion, she tore the demon from the sky, forcing it the ground and ripping the blades down its foul body, felblood pouring out and coating her arms. As she tore the weapons from the cadaver, she screamed in rage, felfire exploding around her body as she threw herself at a nearby felguard. She slashed viciously, blocking blow after blow from the felguard, holding its greataxe in place as Illidan barreled into it, shoving both of his glaives into its ribcage. Allari the Souleater joined the duo, vaulting onto the demon's shoulders and decapitating it, hurtling off as Illidan hurled the corpse off his glaives down into the sea.  
Deliverance Point rang with the clash of weapon against weapon and the warcries of defenders of all kinds. Warriors quickly dispatched colossal Mo'Arg with druids in their ursine forms, mages and warlocks destroying clusters of imps and battalions of wrathguards, death knights and rogues obliterating felguards and jailers, paladins and shadow priests shattering shivarra and felbats with hunters at their backs. Many priests, shamans, druids, and paladins held the rear, healing what injured they saw and reviving those who fell. The Illidari fought away from the others, out of fear that their chaos magics would grow uncontrollable and hit one of their allies. Belath Dawnblade had transformed into his demonic form, rocketing around the battlefield like a living siege engine. Oceans of felblood followed him, painting the battlefield a sickening green. The Illidari were scattered around the bluff in small groups, only a few remaining completely by themselves.  
" **Incoming!** ", bellowed the worgen Battlelord, pointing one of his Valarjar Warswords at the sky. Khadgar and Velen raised their eyes where the beast pointed, finishing off the last few infernals that had dared to invade their foothold. A ball of crimson fire shot down into the center of Deliverance Point, a massive doomguard emerging from the smoldering embers with a flap of his wings. "Allari!", Illidan shouted, smacking two wrathguard with his wings and dazing them. Allari nodded quickly in understanding, racing to the felguard and grabbing their attention, allowing for the Betrayer and the Slayer to charge to the doomguard unhindered. " _ **You stand in the presence of Iruxos, mortals! Cower before the end!**_ ", the demon roared, conjuring a hulking greatsword and swatting away the defenders who were bold enough to approach him. "Do not leave my sight!", Illidan hissed to Pyravia, before hurtling towards Iruxos, slicing down between the monstrosity's leathery wings. " _ **Stormrage!**_ ", Iruxos boomed, rearing back to swing his greatsword down. With a strange sort of grace, Illidan ducked and flared his wings, dodging the doomguard's clumsy blow.  
" _ **You have displeased the Master, half-breed! A-rul shach kigon!**_ ", Iruxos howled, spittle flying from his fangs as he brought the greatsword down again, shattering the earth where it struck. As Illidan barrel rolled out of the way, Pyravia began to shift into her demonic form, vile spikes beginning to tear their way out of her flesh. The Betrayer did not respond to Iruxos' ravings, his rage beginning to overtake him as he dodged attack after attack. The anger was bleeding into his veins, his fists beginning to shake as flashes of Muraxahr and Pyravia broke into his mind.  
Pyravia was rising from her knees, fully transformed, as she heard the echoing explosion of pure hatred. Her eyes immediately found her master, his skin darkening into a void-like purple. His tattoos glowed unlike anything she'd ever seen, fel-embers flying out of them as though they were from a forge in use. His glaives were gone, absorbed into his talons, much like her own.  
" **Xar il romath da tidesbi!** ", Illidan thundered in Eredun, stomping the ground with a cloven hoof, felfire raining from the sky towards Iruxos. The Kal'dorei gave himself over completely to his rage and tormet, devolving into a mindless whirlwind of talons and magic. Pyravia followed her master's example, leaping into the air and crashing down next to the doomguard, felfire bursting where she landed and a verdant rune appearing beneath her feet. The rune flickered for a few moments, before detonating, sending more felfire into the fray. Iruxos bellowed worldlessly, attempting to throw the two demon hunters away from him, felblood leaking from wherever their talons touched. Deliverance Point was a warzone, and they were at the very center.


	10. Burn, Burn, Fire and Burn

Deliverance Point was aglow with spilled felblood, monks' streams of verdant mists, bursts of holy light, arcane explosions, and druidic spells of healing. Chaos magic and fel followed the Illidari as the fought alongside the bluff, reappearing in nearby warlocks' hands as they fired off spell after spell. In the center, near Khadgar and the Prophet Velen, stood the fearsome doomguard Iruxos, locked in combat with the Slayer and the Betrayer.  
Illidan threw himself at Iruxos, forcing his talons deep into the demon's flesh, spraying felblood up and down his blackened skin. He did not speak, having devolved into a maelstrom of pure fury and rage. The two had given themselves over entirely to the demonic presences within them, allowing the fel to completely gush into their blood and take hold, becoming more fiend than elf. The Betrayer's mind was clouded with bloodlust and thirst for revenge, his vision turned crimson and his last remaining coherent thought to " **Slaughter them all**!".  
"Hold steadfast! Do not let any of them near the doomguard!", the Prophet Velen called out across the battlefield, channeling a spell to keep a divine shield around himself and Khadgar. Iruxos reached to tear the Betrayer away from him, only to have Pyravia slam into his arm and mire her claws deep within. The doomguard roared in anger, viciously throwing the Sin'dorei from him and kicking the Kal'dorei away. " _ **Why do you fight the inevitable?! You stand before the end!**_ ", Iruxos bellowed, raising his free arm and opening up several void-like portals in the air above. Several inquisitors drifted from the portals, summoning their vile eyes.  
"Grandmaster Jin-ho! Get those demons away from the doomguard!", Khadgar hollered over the clamor of battle, yanking the monk leader's attention to the inquisitors. "Ironfist! Stormstout! With me!", the Pandaren Grandmaster ordered, his ears flattening against his traditional, wide-brimmed headcover. The two Pandaren and the Dwarf each smashed a beer keg on the robbed demons, leading them away from the elven duo focused on Iruxos.  
Illidan quickly stood , shaking his head like a ram as he charged back towards Iruxos. He slashed and sliced, deftly dodging each clumsy blow from the doomguard, joined once more by Pyravia. She leaped on to the commander's back, raking her talons down between his leathery wings. Felblood poured from the wounds, drenching the Slayer from head to toe. Iruxos howled in pain, bucking violently and tossing the Sin'dorei from him once more. The Betrayer flared his wings and stomped the ground, felfire erupting from the earth around him and flickering on his darkened skin, mixing with the vibrant green embers that flew from his Eredun tattoos. He went into a frenzy, hacking and slashing away at the wretched doomguard, relishing in the oceans of felblood that spilled down on to him. The felfire crackled and popped, spreading on to the doomguard and singing his flesh.  
Iruxos collapsed, blood seeming to leak from every pore. The tide of demons stemmed, the warships in the air moving to other parts of the broken shore. The defenders of Legionfall quickly finished off the straggling demons, many falling to their knees in exhaustion soon after. Velen let down the holy shield, he and Khadgar racing to the front lines to begin assessing casualties.  
Pyravia knelt beside the corpse of Iruxos, her mind clearing and body shifting back into its original form. She looked up,mounting her reformed Aldrachi Warblades on her back and scanning for Illidan, and found him still ripping away at the demon. The flames behind his blindfold were burning like suns, flaring violently. "Master?", Kor'vas Bloodthorn called out, leading the Illidari to the center of Deliverance Point and approaching Illidan. "Don't come near him!", Pyravia commanded, voice harsh with fel and reverberating from her mask. The night elf flinched, but obeyed and backed away, several others near her following suit. "Stay back, something isn't right.", she continued, rounding the massive corpse slowly and reaching her arm out towards the Betrayer.  
Deliverance Point froze, all eyes were fixated on the former Lord of Outland. Her blood-coated fingers gingerly met his bicep, her eyes wide behind her mask and blindfold. Illidan's head jerked towards her fiercely, his eyes wild and boring into her. "It is only me.", she whispered, reaching out another hand and gently touching his face. "Dalah'surfal."  
The wildness began to fade from his gaze, the fires dimming as he started to recognize who stood in front of him. Shakily, he tore a hand out of the doomguard's corpse, placing it upon the blood elf's mask and lifting it over her head, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter. His eyes softened behind the onyx blindfold as Pyravia's sharp face filled his sight. With a grunt of exertion, he ripped his other hand from the demon, turning entirely towards the Slayer and falling to his knees. She met him at the ground, holding his face gently and forcing him to look at her. "It's over.", she breathed, sweeping a finger across his cheekbone as his skin began to lighten to its normal ashy lavender, highlighted by remaining spatters of felblood. His hands rattled as he placed them both on her neck, his talons shortening to their normal length. His tattoos dimmed as well, the sparks that had been flowing from them dissipated entirely.  
He stared deeply into the fires behind her bandage, his fingers shaking harshly as they went to trace her jaw. "Dalah'surfal.", he muttered, his voice wavering. "Illidari! Attend to the defenders with the Archmage and the Prophet!", Pyravia ordered, bringing Illidan to his feet and allowing him to lean against her, with his arm draped around her shoulder. His wings flopped limply and his eyes seemed to only barely be able to stay open. She tried to shoulder him as best she could, despite him being much taller than herself. The demon hunters saluted, hailing the Slayer before turning and making their way back to the front lines. Kayn Sunfury and Kor'vas Bloodthorn looked back worriedly, concern filling their eyes as they watched the diminutive Slayer attempt to keep Illidan on his feet.  
"Come. This way...", Pyravia murmured, Illidan's left pectoral hot against her head, his heartbeat pounding audibly through it. Slowly, she began to lead him down to their spot on the shore, his arm heavy around her shoulders.


	11. His Complimentary Duality

"Come, it's only a few more feet.", Pyravia encouraged, leading Illidan into their tent, removing his glaives from his back and sitting him down in the center. "Lay back.", she insisted, drawing the tent flaps shut as she sat down their weapons in the usual corner. He all but fell back, his wings splayed out haphazardly and limply. With a small sigh, she grabbed the ever-constant bowl of enchanted water and rag, and knelt next to him, gently brushing the stray hairs off his face. "I've seen you fight countless times, but I've never seen you become so..", the blood elf murmured, trailing off as she tugged his hair out of its customary tail, allowing his thick onyx locks to fan out around him. " _Fiendish_?", he weakly suggested, barely lucid and eyes falling shut. " _Feral_.", Pyravia offered, gazing softly down at him as she untied his blindfold and lifted it from his face. His eyes were slits, near shut, attempting to steal as many looks at his lover before they finally closed entirely.  
" _I.. must.. have.. my retribution... for_ _ **you**_ _... and for.._ _ **myself**_ **",** he choked out, before finally succumbing to his exhaustion and passing out. "If only I could hear your thoughts..", she mused, stroking his brow lovingly before soaking the cloth in the enchanted water, beginning to wash away the stains of war. Despite dodging most, if not all, of the doomguard Iruxos' blows, Illidan was covered in wounds ; Abrasions from the doonmguard's rough, erosive skin and bruises from where he had been kicked.. His hands were scraped and blemished, deep blooms of grey and purple forming around his fingers and knuckles, raw flesh around his wrists and palms.  
"Slayer?", came a familiar voice, as a welcome figure entered the tent. "Archmage.", Pyravia remarked rather curtly, not turning to meet him as she cleansed her lover's body. "What happened?", Khadgar questioned, raising an eyebrow at the unconscious demon hunter. "I do not know. I've never seen him in such a state before, it was rage unlike any I've ever seen.", the Slayer confessed. _Rage unlike any I've ever seen_ was certainly worrying coming from the Illidari leader, given that her entire life revolved around destruction of what she loathed and that she herself was consumed with hatred and anger... but not to the extent that her master appeared to be.  
"Is he alive?", the Archmage pressed, kneeling next to the Sin'dorei. "Yes.. He has expended much of the energy within him though.", Pyravia explained, wringing the cloth into the bowl of liquid. "It'll take a few days to replenish.."

"It is the curse of the demon hunter, is it not?", Khadgar wondered aloud, analyzing the Betrayer's uncovered face. "One could claim such a thing, I suppose. It is something we all share in, not even he is above it.", she muttered, finally turning and looking upon the Archmage. "Was there something you needed?", the Illidari snapped, becoming agitated at his presence. "Ah, yes, I became a bit sidetracked, didn't I?", Khadgar exclaimed, ignoring the Slayer's harsh tone and removing an item from the satchel at his. "You left this near the doomguard's corpse. I figured you would want it back."  
The human handed over the Shattered Abyss mask to its owner, offering a small smile as he stood and turned to leave. "Oh, and one more thing... Report at sunrise tomorrow, it is time for a war council.", he called over his shoulder, stealing one last glance at the two elves before departing.  
As the moon rose over the Broken Shore , Pyravia was shaken out of light sleep as she felt a well-known hand grasping at her leg. She had fallen asleep, with her head in her knees, at Illidan's side. " _Dalah'surfal_.", he rasped, quieting as she woke and drew closer to him. The Kal'dorei shakily wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him with surprising strength. "I am here.", she whispered, gazing into the dimmed eyes that seemed to only be able to stay open for moments at a time. " _I.. cannot.. see._ ", he growled, curling his fingers in frustration. "I am here.", Pyravia repeated, taking the Kal'dorei's free hand and placing it upon her sharp cheek. His thumb traveled up and down, her short hair brushing against his knuckles as he found her brow. His expression softened as he felt her features, calmed by her presence.

 **She was the key to serenity, to throwing off his imperious, awe-inspring outer self and allowing his inner self to flow forth. The possessive, defensive, hot-blooded and smart-mouthed man that lie within was only awakened by her touch. The commanding, mercurial, resentful and bitter self that all of Azeroth knew only ever dissipated in her presence, beneath her fingers and pacified by the very sound of her voice. She knew both sides of him, she adored both sides, she eased the bitterness but stoked the possessive rage. She mediated the torment and the pain but fueled his need to protect and preserve that which he loved. She was the stalwart devotee and servant, ever willing to give herself completely to the one who held her in the very center of his heart.**


	12. Ascension

"How did you tolerate this? I feel so... paltry.", Illidan grumbled, voice returned after Pyravia had given him some mana tonic infused with fel to return some of his strength. The moon still hovered above Deliverance Point, hours remained yet until the glory of the break of dawn. The Sin'dorei had shifted her lover towards the back of their tent, reclining and having Illidan rest his head on her lap, as he was still considerably weakened.  
"Do you mean my holding you?", she snickered, rotating her index finger around his temple as he relaxed against her arm. He rolled his eyes at the statement, eliciting more small laughs from the Slayer. "Only partially.", he snorted, leaning into the light massaging. "I was speaking more of this inactivity."  
"You aren't permitted to complain until you're in such a state for over a week.", she sneered, brushing a stray hair off of his face. Illidan did not respond, choosing only to roll his eyes and smirk. The two sat in tranquil silence, lost in each other's auras. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes as she brought her hand down to his cheek, placing her thumb on his cheekbone and curling her fingers under his jaw. His long, night elven ears were splayed on her legs, as were his wings on the floor of the tent. "Tell me something.", Pyravia suddenly murmured, rubbing his cheek bone lovingly.  
He brought his own hand up to meet hers, still shaking, placing it over hers and leaning into her touch. "What happened to you, during the battle..?", she asked quietly, eyes flickering through her blindfold as his sight was shifted to the scar that spanned across her midriff. His orbs of felfire traveled up from the scar to her blindfold, his expression hardening as his gaze met hers. "Vengeance was to be claimed, I gave myself over to true power.", Illidan spat, glaring at nothing in particular. "Our vengeance will never be completed until the Dark Titan himself falls."  
Pyravia seemed to ponder his statement for a time, not making a single move as the Kal'dorei untied her blindfold and allowed it to fall to the ground. "But without control, this bloodthirst and need for vengeance will be your ,-our-, downfall.", she finally spoke, eye fires blazing as she met Illidan's gaze once more. "Downfall? No, this is our ascent. This is our power and with it, I **will** vanquish all who would dare to stand in our way.", the Betrayer argued. "This, I can use to claim our retribution, to let the Legion know what a truly grave error they made by harming you. I use this in defense of you, dalah'surfal."  
"But...", Pyravia began.  
"Hush. I know your fear, and I ask you, do you truly believe I will fall?"  
"When you devolve to such a state of rage and bloodlust, I cannot help but fear that you will. You had no regard for the injuries you were sustaining..."  
"My injuries mean nothing, as long as you are unharmed. If you are harmed, they are for naught."  
"That does nothing to dispel my fear."  
"I will not fall, this I promise you, Pyravia. We vowed to follow each other to the very ends of the universe, for all eternity. I will not break such a vow. I could never dream of doing so."  
Pyravia's eye fires died down and softened, a small smile stretching across her lips as she heard her lover's words.  
"You trust me, do you not?"  
"Of course."  
"Then trust in my word, my beloved."  
The Sin'dorei leaned down and warmly kissed the Betrayer, narrowly missing his horns, relishing in the roughness of his skin as one of his hands wound cupped her neck. " _Kenethil'surfas._ ", she whispered as she pulled away, shutting her eyes in bliss as Illidan's hand traveled up into her hair. " _Kenethil'surfas._ ", he softly declared, rubbing his thumb along the crown of her head as sunlight began to stream through the tent flaps.

Pyravia quickly raised her head, eyes alert at the sight of sunlight. "The war council...", she muttered, searching for her blindfold. Illidan silently put the pieces together,mentally preparing himself, reaching for his own bandage and attempting to stand. "Can you walk unassisted?", she asked, bringing herself to her feet after tying her blindfold. The Kal'dorei immediately grabbed on to the wall at his side, answering her question wordlessly. Sweat was beginning to bead up on his forehead already. "I despise this.", he growled, gripping the wall tightly as Pyravia pulled his hair into its usual tail and tied on his bandage. "If I managed for over a week, you can manage for two days.", she taunted playfully, leading him from the tent, his arm draped around her shoulders. He only groaned in response.

"Ah, Slayer, there you are! We've been awaiting you and Lord Stormrage's arrival.", Khadgar exclaimed, clapping his hands together over the round war table in the Legionfall mage tower. Each order leader had a place on the table, with two represents at their side. The monk Grandmaster, the warlock Netherlord, the warrior Battlelord, the paladin Highlord, the rogue Master Assassin, the death knight Deathlord, the shaman Farseer, the High Priest, the Archmage, the Archdruid, and the Huntmaster, and now finally, the Slayer : All were present. Near Khadgar stood the Prophet Velen and Maiev Shadowsong, who immediately shot Illidan a seething, venom-laced glare.


	13. Council

"Now that everyone is here, onto our first order of business.. The Cathedral of Eternal Night..", Khadgar exclaimed, looking towards the Archmage Sapphira Azurebreeze as Illidan and Pyravia took their places next to Grandmaster Jin-ho and his represents. "Have the operations at Vengeance Point and Aalgen Point been successful?", he asked the ghostly-white blood elf, her single violet eye gleaming brightly. Her other eye was hidden beneath a bandage, and her hair was as white as her skin, pulled into a skull-achingly tight bun. Ebonchill glimmered in the dimness of the mage tower, a frosty air emanating from both it and its master. Lady Azurebreeze was frail and sickly looking, her eye sockets hollow and deep shadows under her overly-prominent cheekbones.  
"Indeed, they have.", Sapphira spoke matter-of-factly, staring down her tall, regal nose at Khadgar. "Excellent, that puts us farther ahead than I anticipated then.. Our next operation will be in the cathedral, we've tracked the dreadlord Mephistroph and the Aegis of Aggramar there and it **must** not be allowed to remain in Legion hands.", Khadgar declared, looking around the table and resting his eyes on the Highlord Thalarion Sunstrike, next to Sapphira. The Ashbringer emitted a faint but heavenly glow, as did its wielder's armor. "I suggest a direct approach, rather than stealth or simply crashing in through the ceiling.", Thalarion offered, fiddling with his high tail of scarlet hair. "And why would that be, exactly? It'd be much quicker and profitable to sneak through the cathedral, my boys and I could have it done this very night.", Master Assassin Somix Fusedagger argued, his goblin ears flapping and fingers curling.  
"It is not feasible, Mister Fusedagger. There are far too many demons within, who will immediately pour out onto the Broken Shore and wreak havoc once they discover Mephistroph has been eliminated.", High Priest Dernaar broke in, T'uure gleaming brightly upon his back. The draenei's eyes glowed behind his priestly vestments, his sky blue skin standing out harshly against the white and gold. "Details, details.", Fusedagger snorted, waving him off rudely. "I agree wit' de draenei, it not be feasible. Da demons are already out stronger den we anticipated, any more and our grip on certain areas could collapse.", Farseer Raz'tish said, shooting a glare at the snarky goblin. "We can't afford ta lose ground because you be tinkin' da lives of de defenders don't matter."  
Khadgar cleared his throat at the troll, provoking a shrug from him. His wild, crimson braids fell down on to his shoulders, the ring in his tusk wobbling as he looked away from the human. "This is why we're having a council, Farseer. As we've discussed now, stealth is not option. Anyone have any ideas?", Khadgar questioned, eyes settling on the worgen Battlelord. "Would it not be easier to blast open the doors and unleash hell, rather than fussing over plans?", Battlelord Vincenzo Lazarus suggested, his gravelly voice echoing throughout the chamber. "Y're just gonna get yerself killed that way, lad.", Huntmaster Ingreola Boneflayer huffed, her thick dwarven fingers fidgeting with the leather on Thas'dorah's handle. Vincenzo's lupine ears flattened against his helmet at the brunette's churlish statement, his teeth beginning to bare. One of his represents, a tall and burly worgen female, placed a hand on his pauldron, seeming to ease him.  
"The Huntmaster is right, Battlelord. Rushing in without a plan is a recipe for disaster. You must have some strategy in mind, as a head-on assault appears to be our only option.", Grandmaster Jin-ho remarked, Fu Zan's beer keg dangling over his head. "Allow my knights and I to enter into the cathedral first! We can begin the spread of plague throughout the area and substantially weaken the demons.", Deathlord Advent Sagar insisted, the Blades of the Fallen Prince on his sides further freezing the room. The Deathlord's voice was metallic and rough, every word he spoke sending a chill up each leader's spine. "My warlocks and I could assist you, our afflictions joined with your plagues would render the demons feeble and easily defeated.", Netherlord Um'Te Deadmaw added, Ulthalesh seeming to brighten at the mention of bloodshed.  
Advent nodded at the orc sorceress, before turning back to Khadgar and outstretching his hand. "Well, would that suit? My knights and the Netherlord's warlocks could lead the first assault.", the Deathlord grunted. "Yes, I suppose that would work... Who shall lead the onslaught further into the cathedral?", Khadgar pondered, resting a finger on his lip. "My Illidari and I shall. With the demons weakened, it'll be childsplay and will require no assistance.", Pyravia finally spoke, glancing up at Illidan before turning her gaze back to Khadgar. "Hey, you can't just leave us outta the fun like that!", Master Assassin Fusedagger sqaulled, pointing a finger up at the Slayer. Pyravia raised an eyebrow at him, before snorting haughtily and turning away. "We work better alone, Archmage. Our magics are volatile and my warriors' attention must be fully on the enemy, not worrying if they may have struck an ally or not.", the Sin'dorei explained, ignoring the gaping goblin. "That would not be an issue if you did not infect and mutilate yourselves with such magic to begin with..", Archdruid Odahet Whitehoof mumbled, looking down at her hooves.  
"If you have something to say, tauren, speak up, that the whole room may hear you.", Pyravia snapped, eyefires blazing. "Slayer, calm yourself. Archdruid, the Illidari are our allies, it is time for you to come to terms with that fact.", Khadgar scolded, staring down the tauren maiden.  
Illidan leaned heavily against the Slayer, choosing not to break in at all during the council, only occasionally glaring at Maiev Shadowsong. He didn't want to waste what little energy he had on chatter, at least chatter that wasn't with Pyravia. Maiev's very presence irritated him, as did the way she snidely grinned and raised an eyebrow when he slid an arm around Pyravia's midsection and pulled her closer to him. He busied him with analyzing the Slayer's thick, short , onyx locks, having to resist the urge to begin running his fingers through it. He had to bite his lip to avoid snickering when she snarled at the tauren Archdruid.  
"Very well, Slayer, you may lead the rest of the onslaught to Mephistroph. Highlord, High Priest, Farseer, I wish for your healers to join the Illidari when they reach the dreadlord." Khadgar, ordered, his eyes jumping from draenei, to blood elf, to troll. "Maiev, you and Lord Stormrage must lead the Illidari, the Ebon Knights, and the warlocks from the very beginning. Are we clear?"  
Illidan raised an eyebrow, rolling his eyes sarcastically at the warden. "As you wish, Archmage.", Maiev agreed, saluting the human. "If you insist.", the Betrayer growled, looking away from the meddlesome warden and back into his lover's hair. The only enjoyable parts of this mission would be slaying demons and angering Kil'Jaeden, and by extension, Sargeras.  
"Good, we have that solved. The rest of you, I want you all outside the cathedral and fending off demonic forces that attempt to attack us from the rear. Are we all clear on our roles?", Khadgar declared, gazing around the table. Each of the leaders nodded and saluted.  
"Perfect. We shall lead our assault in three days' time. Begin preparing yourselves and your followers now, this will not be easy."

-

"You truly surprised me, you know.", Pyravia mused as she led Illidan back into their tent and helped him on the ground, letting him lean against the back wall. "Do I even want to ask how?", Illidan snorted, a vague grin crossing his face. "You managed not to quarrel with Maiev during the entire council! You managed to even stay in Khadgar's good graces this time, how out-of-character for you..", the Sin'dorei teased, turning away from him and shutting the tent flaps. "You act as though that's going to be constant.", the Kal'dorei grunted, smirking and tugging the Slayer into his lap as she neared him again. "Foolish of me to hope, isn't it?", she taunted, startled by how fast his strength was returning to him. "Always. It is far too enjoyable to prod the both of them into purple-faced rages.", he grunted, winding his fingers through Pyravia's hair as she rested her head against his chest. 


	14. The Enlightened

Moonlight streamed through the tent flaps, bouncing off of Pyravia's sharp, angular face. The day had been long and arduous, briefing the Illidari on their invasion roles and going over tactics with the Ebon Knights and Warlocks of the Black Harvest. Um'Te Deadmaw had proven to be more thoughtful -and sadistic- than either Deathlord Sagar or the Sin'dorei demon hunter had expected. The plagues that she and her council planned to conjure were by far some of the most excruciating that Pyravia had ever heard of ; even the Deathlord had seemed taken aback, albeit briefly.

Pyravia sighed and slid out from Illidan's arm, which was heavy and limp with slumber. Although recovering quickly, Illidan still lacked his usual energy and had fallen asleep early in the evening. His lover, however, could not join him. Her thoughts refused to silence themselves and roared between her temples, worries about Illidan and anticipation for the battle - the bloodbath - to come. The lean elf stood up quietly and gazed down at her lord's tranquil face, offering a solemn smile before silently passing through the flaps of the tent out on to the sands. The cool wind gently kissed her skin and blew the ends of her blindfold against her neck, the salty air filling her nose as she strode to Deliverance Point.

To her surprise, the Slayer found that she was not the only one unable to rest. Grandmaster Jin-Ho sat on the edge of the moonwell, eyes closed, playing a soothing tune on a foreign stringed instrument. It was long and thin, with two strings and long bow, and wove a tale of cherry blossoms and cloud serpents with its whine. Upon hearing the elf's footsteps, the music slowed and the Pandaren's eyes opened, focusing on the approaching form. They were heavy-lidded and serene, emanating the same peace that followed the Grandmaster wherever he chose to go. " 'The calm before the storm' ", he muttered with a small chuckle, "It is not an accurate phrase, is it?"

"Am I so easily read?", Pyravia inquired, cocking her head slightly as she approached the monk. "Only to the trained eye.", Jin-Ho hummed, closing his eyes yet again as his furry digits moved up and down the strings of his instrument. "I understand the anxiousness. I was similar, as a cub.. always wanting motion and action. It is the curse of youth."

It was only now that the Slayer noted the gray hairs dotting the Pandaren's fur, beard, and queue. She sighed and sat cross-legged before the monk, like a student before a teacher. Unlike the majority of the class enclaves, Jin-Ho and the monks had never been hostile or uncouth to the Illidari, treating them with the same respect as they did others. The Illidari and Pyravia both regarded the Grandmaster highly, and held an unspoken bond with him and his martial artists. "But, there is a way to overcome it. Focus your mind and unfurl the lotus, and gift it to the gentle breeze.", he continued, opening his eyes once more and finishing the tune, resting his gaze on the Slayer. He smiled at her confused expression as he set the instrument below, at his side.

"Seems senseless? You need not speak. Understanding will come, in time.", Jin-Ho laughed warmly. "Before understanding , comes acceptance. And before acceptance? Beer." The Pandaren's peace seemed to wash over Pyravia as he produced two small tumblers and drew some liquid from Fu-Zan. Filling them, he offered one out to the elf on his paw. Shrugging, Pyravia took the glass and stared into the deep amber liquid. "I see your internal struggles, demon hunter, as I do all those around us. No answers come through a violent storm and whipping gales. Settle the storm, and clarity shall come.", he spoke lowly, downing the beer and hopping down to his feet.

The elf aimed her hidden eyes back up to the Grandmaster as he began marching away, taking the zen tranquility with him. "Come to me again, if you are uncertain. Though, you are not the only one who must yet learn this lesson...", Jin-Ho said finally, bowing and taking his leave.


	15. The Beast and the Pestilence

Dawn was breaking, and Deliverance Point buzzed with anticipation. The invasion of the Cathedral of Eternal Night would begin in a few hours' time, and the Illidari were out and honing their glaives in preparation. Illidan Stormrage stood nearby and watched closely, silently, as Pyravia conversed with Advent Sagar and Um'Te Deadmaw, solidifying their tactics. The warlock enclave was bustling with summoners of all races, monitoring bubbling cauldrons of foul liquid and volatile spell tomes that occasionally spewed carrion insects.

"Izal Whitemoon will call down three of our felbats to carry the liquid plagues to the cathedral and drop them on the target points.", the Slayer noted, turning to Um'Te and gesturing at her underlings. "The Ebon Knights are already en-route with banshees and ghouls to begin the spread of our disease, as well. Several of our gryphons will be joining the Illdari felbats. We cannot afford sluggishness in this endeavor.", Deathlord Sagar added, locking one of his gauntlets into place. Um'Te smiled viciously, Ulthalesh brightening upon her back in excitement. "My conjurers will follow the Ebon Knights, and the Illidari will take up the rear until the plagues have completely spread... once this is done, you may take the helm. We will follow at a distance.", the orc affirmed, saluting before turning and marching to her enclave.

With a nod at the Deathlord, Pyravia whipped around and began shouting orders. "Whitemoon, front and center! Prepare the bats immediately!", she barked, "Bloodthorn, Sunfury! Assemble the enforcers!". The elves rushed off to perform their duties as Illidan approached Pyravia, his mouth set in a hard line. He squinted at her for a moment, observing closely. "You appear different.", he said dully, his scrutinizing gaze traveling up and down her form, lingering at the pinkish scar spanning her abdomen.

Indeed, she did. Prolonged exposure to the fel had caused Pyravia to grow several inches taller and elongated her body. No longer short and diminutive, she appeared tall and lean, muscles strong and taut beneath her pale, ashy skin. Her face had hollowed out more, deep shadows appearing around her eyes and beneath her cheekbones, and becoming dotted with deep scars. Her canines had lengthened and sharpened as well, becoming fangs paired with her tongue, which had begun to fork like a serpent's. Black spikes had torn their way out of the sides of her biceps and the back of her neck, her appearance becoming undeniably more demonic than elven.

The fiery orbs behind the Slayer's blindfold hardened as she looked away from the former Lord of Outland, producing her Shattered Abyss mask and strapping it beneath her gnarled ram's horns. Aiming her gaze back towards her master, she extended a gloved hand and grasped Illidan's forearm. The Kal'dorei seemed shaken out of his observations as her covered palm met his flesh. She felt his pulse hammering in excitement for bloodshed.

"Keep your guard up. We cannot afford any errors.", he ordered, placing his hand on the Slayer's upper arm. "When the time comes, follow close to the warden and I. I do not wish for you to be out of my sight."

"Yes, my lord.", she muttered, bowing her head. Illidan pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head and dragged his thumb along her neck, before tearing himself from his lover and marching off in search of Maiev Shadowsong.

As Illidan strode off, the beating of leathery wings filled the air. Three gargantuan, slate-colored felbats equipped in wicked, onyx armor descended from the sky, landing on the ground with a harsh _thud_. Izal Whitemoon hopped down from the back of the one in the center, passing the reigns off to several lingering enforcers. The bat snarled and gnashed its teeth, saliva dripping from its lower jaw and putrid incisors. "Gather the Souleater, Darkweaver, Ravensong and Dawnblade.", Pyravia ordered as the ghostly white Kal'dorei approached her. Saluting yet again, Izal obeyed and went off in search of her comrades.

Turning to the clear area behind her, the Slayer shut her hidden eyes and concentrated.

 _Come to me._

She felt the fel begin crackling between her fingers.

 _Come to me!_

Lifting her hands above her head, the Sin'dorei inhaled and leaped into the air, tossing the burning sphere of fel at her feet.

 _ **Come!**_

A black portal opened where the magic had struck the earth. As it tore open, a massive, clawed hand reached out and slammed the ground, its horrific and vicious talons digging into the soil. With a nightmarish scream, the creature heaved itself out of the portal, flaring its wings and landing hands first on the ground. The portal slammed shut as Pyravia fell to the dirt, snapping open her eyes to gaze at her felbat.

The demonic bat was large and burly, its skin a deep eggplant purple and claws dark as midnight. Its vile head was covered with a heavy, bronze trimmed helmet that sported an intimidating blade-like adornment and hid its cruel glare. Smoldering, verdant Illidari runes were branded on both of its shoulders and plates of herculean metal ran down its back. Venomous slime dripped from its yellowed fangs as it snorted and hissed, scanning the area. The beast truly looked as though it had just crawled from Argus itself.

The Slayer smirked as the memories of taming the wild demon entered her mind. Matron Mother Malevolence had been of great assistance in the two days past, breaking the creature's will after Pyravia had hunted it down in Marduum.

The elf's smirk faded into hard-set line, before extending her arm and placing her hand beneath its jaw. The felbat quieted as its master gently stroked it, lowering its head for her to mount it. With a small grunt, Pyravia tugged herself on to the spiked saddle and grabbed the reigns, balancing herself as the felbat stood tall. Quickly jerking the reigns, the Sin'dorei turned the demon and coaxed it to trot towards the other mounts. Izal Whitemoon marched up and presented herself yet again, followed by Jace Darkweaver, Allari the Souleater, Asha Ravensong, and Belath Dawnblade.

The four saluted their commander, and waited. " **You three** ,", Pyravia bellowed, pointing at Jace, Allari and Asha, "you have your orders. Move swiftly and keep out of ballista fire. Go!". Belath and Izal watched as the elves quickly mounted the three felbats and took to the air, hovering over the Black Harvest enclave. The warlocks gathered and attached a long bar with two chains to one of the cauldrons of plague, raising it into the air for Jace's felbat. The felbat snatched the bar and with a powerful beat of its wings, soared off towards the Cathedral of Eternal Night, the cauldron flying close beneath.

As the two remaining repeated the action, skeletal gryphons with Ebon riders dove from the dark clouds. They hovered over the warlock enclave, awaiting the undead birds to grasp the bar and chains in their hooked beaks. As they flew off after the Illidari, Belath Dawnblade turned back to the Slayer.

"My orders, commander?", he inquired, face completely hidden by his enforcer's headguard.

"Climb on.", she barked, gesturing to the back of her saddle. Belath looked stared at the threatening felbat for a moment before hauling himself behind Pyravia. The bat grunted in protest, but quieted as Pyravia snapped the reigns. The felbat began barreling down Deliverance Point, leaping off the nearby cliff and extending its wings. It rolled back towards the warlock enclave, flapping its wings furiously and snatching the last remaining plague boiler.

Screeching loudly, it took off after its brethren, and Pyravia offered a final salute to Um'Te Deadmaw as they rocketed towards the battle.


	16. Black Scarab

The mob of Illidari felbats and Ebon gryphons soared over the Black City, towards the Cathedral of Eternal Night. Below them, the Ebon Knights, Illidari Enforcers, and Black Harvest warlocks charged from path to path, following the flight group on skeletal and demonic steeds. They slaughtered any demons that dared come near them, blasting with either black magics or slashing with runed blades.

Pyravia turned back towards Belath, her heart beginning to pound as they neared the wretched sanctum. "Once we are over the Cathedral, take the reigns. Rejoin us as soon as you are able.", she ordered, before cracking the reigns and urging the felbat on. "Sezon will know what to do." Belath nodded, unsure of what was to take place, and the beast snarled at the mention of his name.

"Tighten your grip. This could get messy.", Pyravia barked suddenly, as Sezon dove down out of the way of a flash of sickening green. The pair heard a loud _boom_ as yet another missile instantly sailed towards them, narrowly missing as Sezon dove again. The wind whistled around them, crashes began filling the air as the plague bombs were detonated. Belath watched as Asha Ravensong and her felbat rocketed down to the verdant lime of the Cathedral's ceiling, her bat screeching loudly as it drew its arms back and heaved the cauldron of onyx liquid into the glass.

The glass shattered loudly, and carrion insects began swarming out of the roof. More and more crystal splintered and disintegrated as the blight cauldrons were hurled into the cathedral. Time seemed to slow as Sezon hurtled past the Ebon gryphons dodging ballista fire, tiny sparks and embers lingering in the path of the blazing projectiles. The grand felbat dove yet again, zooming around a pillar and launching the cauldron into a group of wrathguard soldiers on the ground. Carnivorous beetles exploded from the blackened earth, tearing into the wrathguards' flesh and boring into their eyes.

Screams of pain and rage pierced the air and rang out from inside the cursed basilica, clouds of insects pouring from the broken skylights. A flock of Legion felbats began descending from the top of the Cathedral, only to be met with a flood of fiendish beetles. The bugs tore at their leathery hides, ripping their skin apart and snapping at the muscle beneath. The beasts plunged from the sky like boulders, their wings fluttering uselessly as they catapulted down to the dirt, slamming into the soil with dull crashes.

"Dawnblade, take the reigns!", the Slayer bellowed, handing the thick cords to the other Sin'dorei. Quickly tightening her Shattered Abyss mask again, she brought her legs up and knelt on the saddle. "Commander, what're you doing?", Belath shouted, struggling to be heard over the howl of the wind as Sezon shot like a bullet over the Cathedral courtyard. With a hardly audible laugh, Pyravia jerked her head to the the man one last time, drew her warglaives, and vaulted off the saddle.

The man gasped as he watched the commander disappear beneath the violet felbat's monstrous wing, gazing on as she hurtled to the ground.

She landed in a group of felguard with a thunderous crash, producing surges of emerald flame all around her. " **For the Illidari!** ", the Sin'dorei bellowed, sinking her glaives into one of the legionnaire's neck, spraying felblood across the dust. Jace Darkweaver followed suit, bounding off of his mount and smashing to the earth in an haze of crackling inferno. Asha Ravensong soon joined them, twirling and clashing into a towering shivarra. The Kal'dorei grappled on to the demoness' neck as she flew towards the ground, yanking the demonic priestess down on to her back before ramming the bottom of her glaives into the swollen veins near her shoulders. Felblood slopped out as the shivarra screamed in agony, carrion insects swarming her immediately and burrowing into her veins.

A cold wind swept over the battlefield as the Ebon Knights dove from the skies, their gryphons thundering to the ground and wailing their unholy cries. Deathlord Advent Sagar leaped from one as it landed, drawing the Blades of the Fallen Prince and charging into the hordes of demons exploding from the Cathedral.

The demons' skin was mottled and bloody, small wounds dotting every piece of their flesh and scarabs crawling beneath the epidermis. Their breathing was ragged, small clouds of cursed pests flowing from their mouths with each tortured exhale. The scraggly wheezes were interrupted by a cacophony of warcries as the Ebon Knights and Black Harvest warlocks arrived to the battle, the hooves of their warhorses rumbling on the ground. Several knights charged and released icy blue waves of energy, producing crystals where it struck and freezing the tissue of nearby demons.

The skin where the runic magic struck turned black with frostbite, spreading along their body and cracking open painfully. "Push forward!", Advent Sagar howled, raising one of his blades and summoning a whipping blizzard around him. Fiery infernals rose from the earth as the warlocks hopped off their steeds, crimson fire flying from their hands and twisting in the wind as more and more Ebon gryphons dove and crashed to the earth, shrieking and digging their claws into whatever legionnaire was nearest.

The Cathedral had become a warzone in mere moments, felbats and gryphons joining their masters in combat as the plague spread further and further through the basilica.


	17. Take Them Out

"Slayer!", Kayn Sunfury hollered over the clamor of battle, speeding to the front lines and jumping off of his felsaber, whipping one of his glaives into the neck of a felguard ready to swing at Pyravia. A cloud of plague scarabs erupted from the wound as the felguard collapsed into the dust.

"Sunfury, cover my rear!", the Slayer shouted back, blocking the crack of a succubus' whip and hissing angrily. Cyan sparks flew from the enchanted flames creeping up the Aldrachi Warblades as the jagged whip struck metal. Kayn Sunfury rushed into the crowd of demons, tossing them out of the way as deep, forest green and lime sparks formed around him. His image flickered as he picked up speed, assuming the combat stance and placing himself a the Slayer's back. A cruel laugh escaped the man as he watched his felsaber tackle a wrathguard, pouncing on its shoulders and ripping out its throat. Beetles and luminous emerald blood sprayed across the ground and coated the demonic cat's fangs.

As the battle picked up pace, another Illidari felbat soared down the ground, hovering for a moment as Allari the Souleater vaulted down and buried her scythe into an unsuspecting shivarra's neck. Her feet hit the demoness' shoulders, and she leaned carefully over the towering headress the priestess wore. Jerking her scythe backwards, she aimed the demoness' face upwards and glared into her hateful eyes, breathing out a saturated violet mist from her mouth. The mist was followed by a geyser of scarabs, and Allari flipped off the shivarra's shoulders gracefully as the demoness fell forwards limply. There was an audible, sickening _smack_ as the massive demon hit the ground, the fire in her headdress burning out with a fizzle.

Belath Dawnblade scanned the battlefield from above, controlling Sezon to the best of his ability and avoiding mortar fire from the Cathedral towers. The Sin'dorei grunted angrily as yet another flash of fel went sailing past the grand felbat, gripping the reigns as the beast barrel rolled out of the way. " _There must be something we can do about those damn ballistas.._ ", the elf growled under his breath, before catching a glimpse of Sezon's massive, powerful arms. He'd noted them only briefly before mounting the creature. His eyes widened behind the enforcer's mask as the idea came to him, the wind howling through his pointed blond hair.

"Hya!", he shouted as the smacked the reigns, grinning as Sezon's wings beat harder. Jerking the reigns to the left, they rocketed towards the nearest tower and locked on to the nearest cannon.

1..

2...

3.

" **Grab it!** "

Sezon screeched furiously as they hurtled into the tower, digging his thick claws into the alloy of the cannon. The band of wyrmtongue engineers screamed in fear and ran as the ballista shook back and forth, teetering on the minaret ledge. " **Tear it out!** ", Belath roared, ducking behind the bat's helmet as his limbs lashed out harder and harder, drawing the cannon out of the minaret. With a final , animalistic squall , Sezon tore the ballista out of the minaret, whipping it as hard as possible into the nearest wall.

The Legion technology broke into thick, irregular hunks of fel-iron. Metal flew in all directions, nuts and bolts trickling down the ornate carvings of the Cathedral. The demon hunter bellowed a wordless victory cry, searching eagerly for the next ballista. " _Felbats are much smarter than I had originally given them credit for.._ ", the Sin'dorei thought to himself, goading Sezon towards the next ballista as his eyes were drawn to the ground. His long, elven brows knit together in curiosity as he watched a handful of warlocks form a circle around Netherlord Um'Te Deadmaw. The orc warlock dropped down from the back of an Ebon gryphon, nodding quickly at the knight controlling the creature before they took off.

"Slayer, pull everyone away from the gates!", Um'Te boomed over the clamor of battle, unsheathing Ulthalesh and scraping elaborate runes into the ground around her. Each one glowed with a pulsating fuchsia hue, illuminating the dusky ground.

"Deathlord, fall back!", Pyravia shrieked to Advent Sagar, quickly dodging a felguard's gargantuan axe. The Deathlord re-emerged from the horde of insect-bitten demons pouring from the Cathedral, the enchanted blizzard still billowing around him. His armor and blades were veiled with frost and spattered with felblood. The human's striking, brilliant cobalt eyes were crazed with adrenaline and stood out against his ashy, chestnut skin. "Knights of the Ebon Blade, attend to the Netherlord!", Advent bellowed, the metallic ring of his voice sending needles up every fighter's spine.


End file.
